Today, I’m off to get inspired! The T100 Vancouver race is happening at the Spanish Banks-Locarno Beach area, so I’m riding over this morning to check it out and hopefully catch some of the pros at the start.
I’ve been toying with the idea of doing a longer triathlon distance, and the T100 feels like a solid goal for a year or two from now. Honestly, if I had the time to train properly, I could probably attempt it this year—but the bike and run would be brutal.
Still, it’s good to have goals. Good to have something that fuels you. Seeing this event come to Vancouver gives me a jolt of energy—and hey, this city is awesome, so why not soak it in?
So, I decided to go watch and kick off my next training block with some inspiration.
After finishing my first triathlon of the season—a sprint race in the rain—I had a five-week gap before my 12-week Olympic triathlon plan begins. The big question was: what do I do with those five weeks?
The first week was for rest, obviously. But after that, I realized there wouldn’t be much room in my training plan to build run speed. I want to be faster on the run this time around, so I put together a four-week run-focused block to raise my pace. The idea was to build speed now, so when I start triathlon training, I already have a strong run base to work from.
I committed to it—two high-intensity sessions each week, plus a few easy runs. Week one: 22.46 km. Week two: 19.72 km. Week three: 18.49 km. Week four: I backed off for recovery. Those numbers might not seem huge, but it was nearly triple what I ran during my sprint tri prep.
The goal was simple: get my legs run-fit and raise my base fitness. And according to my watch, I went from 49 to 63 points. Solid progress.
I know I’ve got plenty of running ahead, but it feels like I’ve already chipped away at some of the hardest work. Now, when my 12-week triathlon plan kicks off, I can shift focus to the swim and bike—without stressing as much about run training.
Because let’s be honest: running is awful.
Last year, I struggled to find the freshness to push for speed. This year, I want to run longer and harder on tired legs. That means more brick workouts off the bike. I’m also planning to ride longer and harder—to really get the endurance in my legs so I can finish strong on the run.
I still remember how painful the run was during last year’s Olympic tri. I don’t want a repeat of that. That’s the goal this time: finish strong. So here I am—three solid weeks of hard running behind me, and a good foundation to build on.
Next up: a 1000m lake swim on Canada Day. I haven’t done much to build swim fitness yet, and I was nervous, but after a test swim, I clocked 24:21 for 1000m. Not fast, but it gave me confidence.
My goal is simple: finish, stay calm, and hold pace. Last time I raced a swim, I veered off course and swam 200m more than I needed to. This time, I just want to stay on track and finish around the 24-minute mark. But really—just finishing will feel like a win.
There’s a lot to look forward to, especially today: T100 day. Enjoy the ride from Science World down the seawall, and stick around ‘til the end to check out the sights and sounds of the race.
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The day finally arrived: my first triathlon of 2025. In fitting conclusion to a chaotic training block, race day kicked off with a perfectly miserable, rainy morning.
There were plenty of challenges leading up to this moment—months of work, unexpected obstacles, and less-than-ideal conditions. But we don’t sign up for this because it’s easy.
In addition to swim, bike, and run logistics, there was one more wildcard: our dog, Petey. We’ve been training him to handle crowds and noise, and he’s made a lot of progress. Still, we knew race day would test him. That morning, we left him with my wife at the car while I made my way to the start line. I had about an hour to set up before go time.
This was my fifth triathlon, so by now, the usual gear-check panic had faded. No more obsessing over whether I packed everything or anxiety about setting up in transition. Still, right before the start, I always feel it—that churn in the stomach. Pushing yourself to the edge while trying to pace it right? That’s always nerve-wracking.
Speaking of my stomach, I wasn’t feeling 100% physically. Digestively. But maybe it’s all in my mind. I chalked it up to the general discomfort of standing around in the rain. Yes, it was a very messy morning. The trek to the pool was a mudfest.
The swim was supposed to be 444m like last year, but a week out, we got an email that it’d be shortened to 300m. Not ideal for an apples-to-apples comparison, but with the rain, nothing was going to be a perfect match. Still, it was a chance to improve.
Last year, I finished 126th out of 276. This year, my goal was to break into the top 100. Not always the healthiest mindset—comparing yourself to others—but this race uses a staggered start, so standings are kind of a mystery anyway. I decided to treat it like a solo time trial.
To position myself in the most ideal spot, I tested a 300m swim in training and estimated I’d come in around 6:40. Last year, I guessed I could swim 444m in 10 minutes—it ended up taking me about 11, and I had to let a few people pass at the wall. This time, based on my test, I landed pretty close: 6:31 on my watch, and 7 minutes officially after running across the pool to hit the timing checkpoint.
As for the bike—there was no predicting that. I’d done a good chunk of zone two work leading up to the race, but not much hard outdoor riding lately. Still, my legs felt solid. The course was four laps on a rolling route with a 50m climb over 2km. Not brutal, but enough to require steady effort.
I went out a bit aggressively on lap one, eased off by lap two, and by lap three the rain was relentless. I started shivering on a descent and suddenly, my vision blurred. I literally had to shake my head to snap out of it.
I hadn’t trained much in rainy conditions, so from that point on, it was all about survival—just making it to the run.
Needless to say, I was relieved to finally get off the bike at 47 min and 18 seconds, which included both transition times. On my watch, I had 42 min and 42 seconds. A solid time, but I was completely out of it. I started the run with a group pacing around 4:30–4:45/km, which might’ve been fine on a good day—but not after that ride, and not in the state I was in. Once the hills kicked in, I knew I had to ease up.
The run course was no joke—lots of short, punchy climbs, with 128m of elevation packed into just under 5K. I didn’t have huge expectations. Sure, it would’ve been nice to match my 24-minute 5K from last month, but there was no pressure. I just wanted to give it everything I had.
And I think I did.
And just like that, it was over. Another race in the books. And to my surprise, I hit that arbitrary goal I set at the start. I cracked the top 100. Barely. 99th place.
The conditions were rough. The training block was fragmented and inconsistent. But I got through it, and now it’s a race I’ll remember fondly.
As for Petey? He didn’t quite share in my success. While I braved the rain, he opted for safety and comfort. My wife tried a few times to coax him out to spectate, but he preferred to wait it out in the warm car. After a bit of howling, he curled up in the backseat and took a nap.
Still, we all did our best. And I’m proud of the three of us for figuring it out—together.
There will be more attempts. There will be more challenges. Plenty more adventures ahead.
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I knew triathlon training this season would be tough, but you never really know how tough until you’re in it. One thing that’s made this block especially challenging is Petey, our new rescue dog. He’s well on his way to becoming a great, obedient training partner, but the fear and stress from being abandoned on the side of the highway and his time in the shelter don’t fade overnight. We’re working with him patiently, step by step.
Our goal is to eventually leave him home alone for a few hours, but we’re not there yet. While we could leave him with someone we trust, we’re still nervous—especially about how he might react early in the morning. As devoted helicopter dog parents, we’re trying to strike a balance. Sadly, the world can’t stand still and wait.
Right now, that means adding Petey’s training to mine. Alongside preparing for my race, we’re also helping him get used to new experiences so he can join us at the event. We decided the best approach—for me, my wife, and Petey—is to go to the race together.
We know the environment could be overwhelming for him, but with gradual exposure, a little structure, and a lot of treats, we think we can make it a positive experience.
So, we set up a trial run. I signed up for a 5K at Rocky Point in Port Moody—the same place my wife and I got married. It’s a special spot for us, and now it’s tied to a new memory: Petey’s first race.
It was a small, inaugural event, which meant fewer people and a manageable crowd. After a warm-up walk, I headed to the start line while Petey busied himself sniffing a bush. Then it was up to my wife to keep him company—and for me to focus on the run.
I didn’t have a strict goal going in—this was mostly about training Petey—but I figured, why not aim for a personal record? My last 5K in 2023 was 25 minutes and 2 seconds. Those 2 seconds bugged me. So anything under 25 felt like a solid target.
I did it! Finished in 24 minutes and 1 second. Just shy of the minute mark—next time, maybe. Still, it was a strong run, especially on a hillier course than I expected. That’s a great sign heading into my upcoming sprint triathlon.
And Petey? He did amazing. Which really means my wife did amazing. She kept him calm the whole time I was running. A few months ago, having him in this kind of environment seemed out of the question. But today gave us hope. It was one more step closer to having a life filled with fun and adventures.
Of course, this was just a test—a short run. A triathlon is a whole different beast: longer, more chaotic, and way more logistically intense. It’ll be a challenge. But that’s the point, right?
Thank you for joining us on this run. I’ll see you in the next one.
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When we talk about endurance sports, we often hear about battling through pain. So much of the sport is about pushing our limits, and it’s in that process where we truly improve. When it gets hard, that’s when we’re challenged. That’s when we discover who we are. That’s when we endure.
That’s when we prove to ourselves: we are not quitters.
Of course, this mindset isn’t just for sport. We can bring that kind of endurance to every part of life. Don’t give up on what you started. Follow through on what you said you’d do. As a creative, I know that struggle well. How many projects have I started only to abandon them halfway through?
In life and in triathlon, endurance is everything. When things get hard, scary, or painful, we have to push through. We have to keep going.
During this training block, I faced plenty of challenges—not just tough workouts, but all the resistance that comes with the sport. There are always reasons to stop.
Lately, I’ve been finding it hard to get on the bike for long rides. Not just because of the weather, but because of my schedule. This season doesn’t really allow me to be away for hours. And sure, I don’t need that long of a session for a sprint triathlon, but I still feel like I should be putting in the time. My new dog, my new job—life has been full, and it’s been keeping me off the bike.
But I’m still enduring. And enduring sometimes means problem-solving. Last year, I relied on Zwift for convenient indoor training. When it stopped connecting to my bike, I tried Rouvy. But I wasn’t riding enough to justify the cost, so I cancelled. I thought I just had to tough it out with nothing but numbers on my watch, but that’s unnecessary suffering. I signed up for MyWhoosh last week, and suddenly, my excitement for biking returned.
Things go wrong. Equipment breaks. Problems arise. We have to endure that, too. This is the good kind of endurance—the kind that builds patience, confidence, resilience. Not just physical strength, but mental strength too.
Recently, my GPS watch started glitching. After just a year, the battery drains quickly, and the elevation tracking stopped working. I’m working with support to fix it, but it’s frustrating. When my gear isn’t working, my motivation drops. I love collecting data—tracking workouts, measuring progress. When the metrics are off, everything feels off. It’s like playing hockey with dull skates. But I kept going anyway. And good news: I discovered Strava has a “Correct Elevation” feature, so even if my watch is wrong, I can fix it.
This is what endurance really looks like—dealing with the little things. Because when you don’t deal with them, they pile up. It’s like cleaning your house—if you clean as you go, it’s easy. If you don’t, it becomes a mess. Maybe even a hoarder-level mess.
Good endurance is good habit. It’s confidence. It’s delayed gratification.
But not all endurance is good.
Bad endurance is ego. It’s pushing through when you shouldn’t. It’s training through injury. It’s ignoring your mind and body. It’s refusing to fuel or rest properly. It’s bottling up your feelings. It’s not asking for help when you need it.
Bad endurance is thinking you’re strong for holding your hand to the flame. Sure, it might impress someone in the short term—but long term, it only burns you. Physically, mentally.
Bad endurance is staying in toxic relationships or jobs. It’s putting up with bullying and gaslighting. That kind of endurance doesn’t make you stronger—it chips away at you. It erodes your confidence. It delays your healing.
After everything I’ve been through these last few years, I’m learning what’s worth enduring and what isn’t. What makes me stronger, and what just does damage. What’s worth waiting for, and what isn’t.
Triathlon is an endurance sport—but that doesn’t mean you should endure everything. There’s good endurance, and there’s bad endurance.
I remind myself of this whenever I feel like quitting. I take a moment to reflect on what’s really stopping me. Am I avoiding a problem I could solve? Am I just making an excuse? Or am I actually being fair and reasonable with myself?
That said, training is going well. After a few speed bumps with my health, I’m feeling good. So I’m trying something new: riding across the Lion’s Gate Bridge into West Van, down to Ambleside Beach. It was my first time doing that route, and let me tell you—the descent off the bridge is way steeper than I expected. But I stayed calm. I didn’t stop. I managed the panic.
And that, to me, is good endurance.
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This is my third year training for triathlon. So many things that once felt new now feel like routine—but that doesn’t mean they feel old. A training plan stretches across months, and because life keeps moving—your schedule shifts, your body changes, the world changes around you—none of it ever stays the same. It’s like that saying: you never step into the same river twice. Even if the actions—swimming, cycling, running—are familiar, the route, the time of day, the body you’re moving in… none of it is exactly as it was before.
My body is in constant flux. Some days it’s tired, others it’s fresh. Sometimes I ache. Sometimes I feel strong.
Life throws a mix of old and new challenges. Things I’ve done before and continue to refine, and things I’m encountering for the first time. This season, like clockwork, allergies hit me hard. Hay fever, maybe a cold too—right during the week I had off before starting a new job. Not ideal timing.
The new job has been exciting—a fresh challenge, new systems to learn, new people to meet. It’s energized me, but it’s also demanded my focus, and that’s meant training has taken a back seat some days.
And then there’s Petey, our new rescue dog. It’s been three months now, and while he’s adjusting well, he doesn’t exactly make triathlon training easier. Every day is a puzzle of syncing his needs with mine and my wife’s schedules. On top of that, we’re trying to figure out what to do with him on race day—we don’t think we can leave him alone for that long. Ideally, we’d bring him with us.
That means, in a way, he’s training too. We’re slowly getting him used to more stimulating environments—other people, other dogs—but more importantly, we’re helping him get used to me leaving him. That’s been the hardest part. On walks, if I duck into a store or step away, he panics. So we’re working on that—teaching him to stay calm when I leave, helping him understand that I always come back. Patience, consistency, and making those moments feel safe are key.
There’s a lot going on. At times, more than I feel I can juggle. Priorities shift day to day. But strangely, all of this has helped me stay present. When I do get to train, it feels even more meaningful. Something I look forward to. Something that feels like mine.
I’ve done triathlon before. I’ve even raced this upcoming course before. But nothing about this season feels the same—and that’s what makes it thrilling.
Like today. I’m riding out to Burnaby to do what I call the Brentwood loop. I grew up in Burnaby North—a suburb just outside Vancouver—and this area is so familiar to me. But every time I return, something’s different. New buildings, new shops, new roads—but also, pieces of it stay the same.
Things shift—over years, over days, even from one moment to the next. One second it’s sunny, the next it’s raining. That’s just how it goes.
So: enjoy the ride.
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Fitting in my training these past few weeks has been a challenge. I’m transitioning jobs, which means juggling handovers and prepping for the new role. A part of my responsibility for the role I’m exiting is coordinating a video project, which means spending a couple of days on set. Add in waiting around for new gear deliveries, and my schedule has felt pretty out of my control.
And if that wasn’t enough—cue the bad weather. An atmospheric river is rolling through, so outdoor training? Not ideal. Plus, a few of my usual pools are closed for annual maintenance, making swim sessions even trickier to fit in.
With all this chaos, my training has definitely taken a backseat. But I’m still managing two workouts per discipline each week, thanks to a whole lot of flexibility—constantly shifting my schedule based on time, energy, and what’s actually available. Sometimes, that means doubling up on workouts.
Over the past couple of weeks, my biggest workouts have been a 30-minute run test and an 800-meter swim test. I covered 5.65 km in 30 minutes, averaging a 5:19 pace on the run. For the swim, I finished 800m in 17:47, which breaks down to 2:13 per 100m.
As for the bike… I should probably do a new FTP test. My Coros watch says 204 watts, and that seems about right—but it wouldn’t hurt to check.
Right now, swimming is easily my favorite—it feels like a little escape. Since it takes some effort just to get to the pool, by the time I finally dive in, everything else just fades away.
Running, on the other hand, is the sport I’m squeezing in wherever I can. It’s the easiest to be flexible with, so I just fit it in when and where it works.
And cycling? Honestly, I’m not loving it lately. Between the weather and fatigue, I’ve been stuck riding indoors at night while my dog sleeps, and it’s just… boring. Not being able to ride outside hasn’t helped either. Hopefully, that changes once things settle down.
But if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that flexibility is key. Not just for training, but for keeping triathlon sustainable with real life. Sometimes, that means doubling up—on workouts and daily tasks. If I’m driving to swim, I’ll grab groceries on the way back. I’m running or biking, I’ll plan a route that lets me run an errand.Training isn’t just about squeezing things in—it’s about making my life flow.
And flexibility isn’t just about right now—it’s about the whole year. It’s easy to stress about hitting every workout when it’s scheduled, but going too hard too soon leads to burnout. Right now, I’m just getting used to this new training load, setting a new baseline, and making sure that I can sustain this pace for the rest of the year.
This ride is a good example of all that. I biked from Mount Pleasant to Lumberman’s Arch in Stanley Park to help my wife return a race tag for a half marathon. It was a fun ride… until I had to weave through the seawall mid-race. But hey, that’s all part of being flexible.
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Finally back on the bike, and it feels so good. Starting a new training block, having a race to aim for—everything feels right. Even when the world seems like it’s spinning out of control, it’s such a relief to focus on my training. For a brief moment in this crazy life, I feel like I can take control back.
I remember why I started triathlon. Two years ago, during one of the darkest times in my life, I made the decision. It was the beginning of 2023, as we were finally coming out of the shadows of Covid and the world began to reopen. I had been locked up, living in a five-block radius, working in a windowless room. I was focusing all my energy on my creative projects and work, but it felt like the hours spent in front of a computer screen were slowly suffocating me.
I literally noticed that I was holding my breath for long periods while writing a stressful email or attending a Zoom call.
I lost 20 pounds. Looking back at pictures from that time, I was so thin and sickly that there’s no other way to describe it but to say I felt bad—physically and mentally bad.
Change is nothing new to me. I’ve gone through phases in my life. If you had asked me in 2019 if I’d ever do any of the three sports in a triathlon, I would’ve laughed it off, made a joke, and everyone would’ve been laughing along. But no, triathlon wasn’t even on my radar.
So how did it come to this? Before Covid, travel was my source of excitement. It was a huge part of who I was. I took two or three trips a year—flying on planes, exploring new places, tasting different foods, paying in different currencies. That was my thing.
When Covid hit, that travel bug was crushed. And unlike the cockroaches that can survive an apocalypse, the travel bug didn’t really come back. Sure, it would be fun to travel again, but I no longer had that intense desire. But I still needed something to look forward to, something I could work toward. I needed an activity that would regularly take me outside the house.
My wife became a big source of inspiration. She’s been a marathon runner for years, and she’d always tell me about the places she ran to. It blew my mind that, as a hobby, she could end up in totally different parts of the city. I wanted that for myself.
Triathlon turned out to be the perfect sport for me because it’s three sports in one. Training for a marathon means repeating the same activity every day, but triathlon is varied. Every day is different, and I love that.
Little by little, I started learning the three sports, having never done any of them before. The progress is steady, but it’s happening. What I love about riding, running, or swimming is that at the end of each session, I return home. Work, whether creative or professional, often feels like an endless grind. But sports have a sense of closure—a run, a ride, a swim, and then it’s done. And I feel good.
That good feeling has been a lifesaver these past couple of years. Life isn’t always easy, of course. But on a sunny day, when I’m out on a ride like this one, preparing for something ahead, it gives me a sense of hope. It’s a personal journey, but it fills me with a simple desire to keep living.
The world can be a scary place. There are people out there who aren’t kind. And when you’re on a bike, you sometimes feel that—like you don’t belong, or you’re in someone’s way, or even that you’re breaking the rules — when you’re not! But that’s just life. Even when the world wants me to feel bad, I don’t. I feel good.
Today’s a good day. This week’s a good week. And it’s the start of something great. We’ll get there. For now, I’m riding Ontario Street in Vancouver, one of the main north-south corridors that takes you from the seawall downtown to the Fraser River on Marine Drive. From there, you’re just a stone’s throw from the airport. This is my first time riding all the way south—a 65-block journey. Enjoy!
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The weather’s been rough lately, and on top of that, finding time to exercise has been a challenge. But all is good because my quote unquote training plan hasn’t started yet, and if there’s ever been a moment to get my life in order before it kicks off, it’s now.
In these videos, I often find myself reminding me to keep going, to stay consistent, and to push through even when things get tough. But today, I want to highlight something that’s crucial and often overlooked: not beating myself up.
I have a tendency to be hard on myself in many areas of life. I expect a lot, and I think that’s tied to some of the childhood trauma I’m still trying to work through. Whether it’s work, family, or especially my writing, I can be my harshest critic. When I played hockey as a goalie, I would get furious with myself for every save I missed. But I’ve gotten much better at giving myself grace, especially when it comes to triathlon training.
I think the reason for that is that I always approach it with the mindset of “I’m still learning, I’m still improving,” and it’s something I genuinely enjoy. As an adult, when you start labeling yourself as a professional, expert, or specialist, there’s often this expectation that you should have all the answers, solutions, and the ability to fix or improve everything. But the reality is, even with skills and experience, not everything is within your control. The world is constantly changing, and we need to adapt.
That brings me to where I am right now: building out my 12-week training plan for the sprint triathlon in May. The race will be a 444-meter swim, a 17.6 km bike ride, and a 4.9 km run.
The plan won’t be anything too strict or complicated. My goal is to do two runs a week: one hard interval session and one easy run. I’ll also swim twice a week using the Form goggle workouts, which I’m really enjoying. For biking, I aim for two rides a week—one intense and one more relaxed. Ideally, I’d like to get outside twice a week for the bike rides, and I might even throw in an extra fun ride over the weekend. Lastly, I plan to do a weekly bodyweight strength workout.
A bike in 45 minutes and 40 seconds, including both transitions.
And a run in 23 minutes and 44 seconds.
I think it’s definitely possible to cut a minute from each discipline—at least that’s the goal. But if I don’t hit it, I’m not going to beat myself up about it. I won’t stress over missing a workout when life gets in the way, or if a workout doesn’t go as planned. My focus will be on having fun and improving where I can.
With that said, I’ll do my best! I’ll give my best effort to improve and hit my goals. I’ll do my best in each workout, and most importantly, I’ll do my best to share this journey with you.
Today, I’m running a little East Van route from Van Tech High School to Emily Carr University of Art and Design. This route follows the SkyTrain and takes you through the Central Valley Greenway junction across Commercial Drive. Enjoy!
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Another beautiful day in Vancouver—cold, though. It’s just barely above freezing today. Still, any day in January without rain or snow? I’ll take it.
This week, I finally got around to tallying up all my metrics from 2024. Tracking data is something I genuinely enjoy, which is one reason I love triathlon so much—it’s basically an excuse to collect data. If I can quantify what I’m doing, it makes consistency feel so much easier. I bring that same philosophy to my creative work. Every day — or nearly every day — I track my creative writing and video creation the same way I track my workouts. I’m obsessed with my spreadsheets.
Here’s how 2024 shaped up:
I swam 90,325 meters in 44 hours, 20 minutes, and 26 seconds (5% less than 2023).
I cycled 3,901.07 kilometers in 175 hours, 21 minutes, and 32 seconds (22% more than 2023).
I ran: 621.44 kilometers in 67 hours, 11 minutes, and 29 seconds (23% less than 2023).
The big jump in cycling is thanks to our new indoor bike, which I added to my routine last year—it made all the difference. As for swimming, I swam less because I spent extra hours in 2023 learning how to swim, so naturally, I didn’t log as much distance in 2024 because I didn’t have that huge learning curve. For running, I held back intentionally to avoid overdoing it and risking more injuries.
2024 was my sophomore year in triathlon. While I packed the calendar with races, I’d call it more of a “slump year” training-wise. But seeing the data laid out, I know I’ve built a solid foundation. This year, I want to build on that thoughtfully—not just by chasing bigger numbers. These annual stats are a nice way to reflect on the work I’ve put in, but they don’t tell the full story. What matters to me this year is how well I’m performing in training and races.
Take swimming, for example. For my birthday, my amazing wife got me a game-changing gift: FORM goggles. If you haven’t heard of them, they’re like a smartwatch built into your goggles. They show data like pace and stroke rate while you swim. Even cooler, they give feedback on things like head position while breathing and overall swim efficiency.
After my first swim with them, I got a score of 40 out of 100. Plenty of room for improvement, but I’m excited to see how much I can progress.
With that said, I’m heading into year three of this triathlon journey. While improvement is always a focus, the real priority is maintaining the habit. I don’t even think of triathlon as a hobby anymore—it’s just what I do.
Before my training plan officially kicks off in a few months, I’m taking this time to maintain my routine and base fitness. There is no point in tiring myself out. This is my no-pressure, fun part of the year, and I want to enjoy it. And I definitely want to do a weekend ride. So I’ve decided to explore some parts of the city that aren’t great for structured training but are worth a visit.
Today, I’m riding to the West End of Vancouver to check out some of the greenways, including the Comox-Helmcken Greenway. Thanks to this project, there’s been a 49% boost in cycling trips and a 35% decrease in car trips in the neighborhood. While the greenway was originally planned to stretch across the entire city, only the Comox phase has been completed so far.
And since no ride into Downtown Vancouver is complete without detours, I got sidetracked by the demolition of the 115-year-old Dunsmuir building. It’s been a hotel, military barracks, and a shelter over the years, and now it’s making way for something new. From there, I’ll take a trip down the world-famous Granville Street.
Enjoy the ride.
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Twenty months ago, I didn’t swim, bike, or run. I was just a sedentary writer and marketer, feeling frail and pretty down—basically, an all-around sad boy.
Since then, I’ve gradually built up my skills in each discipline and improved my fitness along the way. And honestly, it’s done wonders for my mental well-being. They say if exercise were an antidepressant, it’d be the most effective one out there—and I totally believe it. I might even be a bit addicted now, but I think I’ve got it under control!
Looking back at how far I’ve come is a bit surreal. If you’re interested, check out this video of my first sprint triathlon from last year after you finish watching this one. The improvement is huge!
Now, I’m gearing up for my first Olympic-distance triathlon: a 1,500-meter swim, a 40-kilometer bike ride, and a 10-kilometer run. What once felt impossible now seems totally doable.
While a lot of things went right, I definitely learned some lessons tackling this longer distance. Today, I’ll share what worked for me and where I stumbled in each of the three disciplines. Let’s go!
Swim : What Went Right
Started at the Right Pace
Last year, during my first sprint triathlon, I charged into the swim as fast as I could, thinking I could power through the 750 meters and keep up with the pack. Spoiler alert: that didn’t go as planned. I got completely knocked around after just 200 meters!
This year, though, I played it safe. Knowing the distance was double, I wanted to make sure I had enough energy to get through it.
So, I let the front runners take off ahead of me and eased my way in at the back. I even took a moment to wave goodbye to my wife before diving in.
What I loved about this was that I found myself swimming the first 50 meters next to a guy doing breaststroke! That was a game changer for me because I definitely felt a few jolts of panic throughout the course. But all I had to do was slow down my stroke rate and focus on my breathing. In about 10 to 20 seconds, I was able to chill out, enjoy the splash of the salt water, and just steadily make my way through it.
Swim: What Went Wrong
The Sun Got In My Eyes
Here’s the bad news about the swim, which definitely made me glad I was taking it slow. During the first lap, as I was swimming back to the beach, I was headed east just as the sun was rising above the park. That meant I was basically swimming into the sun for the whole 300 meters back in. You can probably guess how that turned out.
I completely lost sight of the buoy, the beach, and everyone ahead of me. I was pretty much swimming blind! My tinted goggles didn’t help much either. In the end, I ended up taking a super wide line, just guessing where to go, hoping I’d get close enough to hear the commotion on the beach or spot some splashing feet in front of me.
I finished my swim about 4-5 minutes slower than I expected, and when I looked at my data after the race, it all made sense—I swam an extra 200 meters! While it was nice to go at my own pace, that also left me swimming solo, which created a whole new problem in terms of navigation.
This is definitely something I need to work on for future open water swims, especially on sunny mornings!
Bike: What Went Right
Staying Focus
A 40 km bike ride is something I usually chill out and do over 2-3 hours around the city with music blasting in my ear. I’m not really used to doing four laps around a course, but man, the Stanley Park route is absolutely stunning. I had to take a moment a few times just to soak it all in, but a part of me just wanted to power through as quickly as possible.
There were definitely a lot of thoughts running through my head during the ride. How fast should I go? What gear should I be in? Should I try to keep pace with the person in front of me? Should I pass them? Should I save my energy for the climb, or push harder? How reckless should I be on the descent?
I was having this constant dialogue with myself for the hour and twenty minutes I was on the bike, always checking in on how I was feeling. That constant check helped me stay focused. The worst thing that could happen was getting bored and either gunning it or blowing up. Or just crashing. I realized how important it was to keep a gauge on my energy levels and pull back if I was pushing too hard because my goal for the bike was to stay steady and feel good for the run. That’s where I could make up for any lost time!
Bike: What Went Wrong
A Bad T2… Again!
While I didn’t have a stellar bike ride by any means, I made it through in one piece with no mechanical issues. It was just a steady, consistent effort, and overall, I’m proud of that. But what I wasn’t proud of was everything that happened once I got off the bike and hit T2.
Transition 2 was a total mess. I got super disoriented, caught in some congested traffic on the way in, and I ended up fiddling with my watch for way too long while trying to keep moving. Oh man, it was definitely amateur hour!
To make matters worse, once I got into transition, I completely lost track of where I was supposed to rack my bike. I stood in another aisle for like 10-15 seconds just searching for my towel. It turned out to be in another row down, and it was pretty embarrassing. Thank goodness my wife was still walking over, so there’s no footage of me looking like John Travolta in Pulp Fiction.
The thing is, I got so used to seeing the racks from the opposite side—the side I exited to the bike course—that I never familiarized myself with the other side, the side I came in from after the bike. That was honestly just a huge oversight, and it really rattled me. Instead of feeling good about heading into my run, I was all discombobulated and had to take a moment to refocus.
T2 has always been tough for me. I don’t know what it is…
Run: What Went Wrong
Nutrition and Cramping
My goal was to run a 5-minute kilometer for the 10K. I started out strong, but within the first 100 meters, I realized I wouldn’t be able to keep it up. Almost immediately, I felt like my quads were about to cramp up. Usually, when I run off the bike, the first kilometer is the painful part, but it passes.
This time, though, it didn’t pass. I was on the verge of cramping the whole time, which meant that if I even tried to speed up, I’d really feel it, so I rode that fine line for the entire run. Instead of feeling like I’m conquering the run, I had to stick to a much slower pace—about 30 seconds slower than I wanted. It was super frustrating and honestly the most disappointing part of the whole race. My strategy was to feel good during the run, and I definitely didn’t.
My marathoner wife, who’s been through every running experience you can think of, suggested that my crampy legs were likely due to not having enough nutrition and not enough calories to fuel my run. I had one Gu at the start of the swim, another at the start of the bike, a full bottle of Gatorade on the ride, and two more Gu’s during the run, but that didn’t seem like enough. It’s definitely something I need to experiment with in the future.
Run: What Went Right
Enough to Finish Strong
Nevertheless, what went right was that I finished strong. I remember having enough energy to pass two more runners on my way to the finish line, which was exactly what I needed. There was an uphill stretch right before the end that felt like the most torturous part of the whole course. I really picked up the pace there because I didn’t want to hold back. In the last kilometer, I hit the pace I had been aiming for, and it absolutely finished me off. I left it all out there and crossed the line with a time of:
Official Time: 3:08:18 Overall: 162/243 Gender: 126/237 Division: 24/46
Taking everything into account, I think that’s a pretty respectable time for me. It reflects where I am in terms of fitness, skill, and experience. I can’t do another triathlon without feeling accomplished for having completed this one, especially since I didn’t think I could do it 20 months ago.
While I finished this race strong, it’s definitely not the end. Reflecting on this experience, I’ve come up with a ton of ideas for tweaks I can make to improve, and it goes beyond just training and getting fitter.
Conclusion:
This Olympic-distance triathlon was harder than all three sprint triathlons I did combined. But having the base fitness in each discipline gave me the confidence to know that anything is possible now. I have proof that I can do this—and maybe even more.
This wraps up a fun season of sports, and I’m already looking ahead to my next race. I’ve got a couple in mind for 2025. Right now, my goal is to use triathlons as a way to get outside, stay in shape, and explore new towns and cities—starting in my province and then going further. Which race will I sign up for next? We’ll have to wait a bit, but I’m sure I’ll figure it out soon! Hit subscribe so you can follow along.
This is the final part of my Project: Be Consistent — if you are interested in seeing the first two parts, which chronicles my 8 week training plan and carb-loading week in Italy, you can click on the link in the description or the playlist here.
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